Wench, you belong to me
by Ro Nordmann
Summary: His mind wouldn't stop berating upon him, as he kissed her, his Brienne. His only hand grabbed her short filthy hair, pulling her head back. He stared at her crystalline blue eyes. What he saw reflected in them wasn't disgust, or disdain. No revulsion. Dare he hope he saw love staring back. Once, the Maid of Tarth had been his enemy, or so he thought.


As Jaime rocked faster, he felt her walls tighten. She was getting closer… yes. He couldn't hold off any longer. Her nails raked his back and shoulders, his hips answered with faltering thrusts. Come you fucking wench! His arms were trembling from the strain of holding himself. He wasn't going to last another minute. Finding a last burst of strength he rolled on his back, holding her close.

Their ragged breathing was the only sound around them. The room was appropriate for a recently wed couple consuming their love on their wedding night. They weren't neither. And he hadn't come yet, neither had she. He tried to rubbed a sudden ache on his chest, but her head was resting there, as she gulped air into her starved lungs.

Sweat.

Their bodies were covered in it. The smell was a mixture of their bodies joining together, in other words the room reeked of sex. He felt like a failure, less than a man…nothing like this had ever happened to him. Was he too old and wretched to ever bed a woman properly? When had he desired to fuck another woman beside Cersei?

His musings were interrupted by the brush of lips…her lips touching his flesh so delicately. He wanted to rant and tell her to get off him. He was a useless piece of shit, who should have died right after his _hand_ was lost to him. He was nothing now. He would have to give up his position in the Kingsguard, rely on being a Lannister and its money and privilege.

Then his mind decided to punish him further by reminding him of her face as she saw him for the first time…how it changed when she looked upon his missing hand.

Disgust.

Disdain.

Revulsion.

He wasn't her Jaime anymore. His Cersei dismissed him without much fanfare, like he was nothing more than a mangled dog. Maybe that's he'd been, all his life catering to her every whim…a lap dog. He sneered and tried to sit up, forgetting he had a very large woman resting on his chest. Her hands held him down, as he felt her breath on his neck. Only a few minutes had gone by, but he felt he had to end this…this momentary madness.

"Jaime…Jaime."

She kept murmuring his name. How she knew that was what he needed? He stopped his intent to leave her, as his lips searched for hers. This wench knew things inside him no one was privy to, not even his twin sister. And yet she still breathed, and now was lying in his bed almost sexually satiated. This freak now belonged to him. Did she know? Was she wanting him to posses her again? Make her moan and scream his name? Let everyone in King's Landing know that the Kingslayer was back?

Madness, indeed.

His mind wouldn't stop berating upon him, as he kissed her, _his_ Brienne. His only hand grabbed her short filthy hair, pulling her head back. He stared at her crystalline blue eyes. What he saw reflected in them wasn't disgust, or disdain. No revulsion. Dare he hope he saw love staring back.

Lust.

Desire.

His wench was a wanton, recently deflowered warrior. His true equal. Once, the Maid of Tarth had been his enemy, or so he thought. Now…his eyes wandered down, looking at her quivering naked body. He wanted to apologize for every untoward word spoken, for every taunt at her expense. She wasn't a beauty, or the most feminine of ladies, but still a lady.

_His_ Lady.

He had taken her maidenhead, for she had given it to him. Why she chose him? A has-been, half man incapable of pleasuring her. His lips grew forceful, as he wanted to consume her. Sucking her lower lip, he bit and tugged on it. His eyes gazed upon her startled face. She stared back, showing she wasn't afraid. Oh Gods, how she taunted the animal lurking in the shadows of his despicable soul.

Brienne smirked, as she had the upper hand literally. Using his moment of weakness, she sat astride him, keeping his still erect cock between her opened thighs. The flickers of the remaining candle allowed glimpses of their bare skin. Her parted legs showed off the evidence of their activities, smeared blood marked her flesh, just as his manhood was covered in it. He flinched remembering the lone tear that had escaped her eye, as he tried to control his instinct to plunge deeper without regard. He had kissed it off her face, so tender.

Now she sat back, proud of who she was. Why shouldn't she be? She was all woman after all, capable of making a man grunt in passion. The only thing missing was her straw-colored hair flowing down her back, as she rode him, swishing side to side. Could he make her grow it long? It would be a great weapon to keep her by his side…he had closed his eyes and missed her slight movement, one that allowed to impale herself on his cock.

"Fuck… wench who knew you had it in you…"

"S-shut up! S-someone has to end this…"

She was stammering, as she kept rocking her hips. His hand now was free to roam her body, his fingers tugging on her puckered nipples, causing her to pant and mewl. Even if they weren't voluptuous, her breast pleased him, for they were only his. She was only his, to devour, to plunder and claim.

There was no sign of discomfort, and for that he was thankful. He didn't want this to mar her memories of him. Why he cared what she thought of him befuddled him. He was a Lannister, a Kingsguard, the fucking Kingslayer. No ugly wench would have that kind of power of him… or so he kept repeating inside his head. Only he had to admit, seeing her freer than ever, riding his cock, Brienne was a beauty.

The pent up energy was taking its toll, and his impending release was upon him. But not before she shattered in his arms. Using his legs, he pushed into her, his left hand holding her hip down. _Come, Brienne. Let me see you let go, give yourself to me, _he silently begged her. As if she could hear his thoughts, Brienne gasped and used his shoulders as leverage as she swiveled her hips for the last time. Her body spasmed, her limbs taut, as she experienced her first orgasm. It was a glorious sight to Jamie, unlike anything he had ever treasured in his life. It felt like being reborn, for he was no longer the Kingslayer or what remained of the defrauded wretch; he was her Jaime, the one she gazed upon just moments ago. She made it possible.

His own release followed, as his cock spurted his seed into her without remorse. Her lips kissed his neck, as she rested on his chest, her fingers touching every scar that tainted his flesh. It reminded him of his past, but it also marked the beginning of his future. He couldn't let her go to fulfill that oath on her own, now that she had accomplished part of it, by returning him to King's Landing. She would never part from him, as he won't be far from her. He was tempted to barge into the Great Sept of Baelor and demand they be wedded immediately, for he had blemished this Lady's honor. The sheets would be evidence enough to convince the septon. Yet, Jamie feared Brienne would reject him. How to approach this without it ending in heartache?

His mind was already dreaming of them together for the rest of their lives, riding horses, sleeping under the moon, and fucking like rabbits in the morn with only the trees as witnesses. Even a brief look at her swollen belly was too much to hope for…but it was there in the recesses of his mind. Would she become his true Lady Lannister?

Their breathing was back to normal, and their bodies had decided, to remind them of their balmy state and odorous offense.

"We should-"

"I need a-"

They both laughed. It was refreshing, to be this comfortable and free. They needed to bathe and talk, and probably have some food brought in. His words had to be compelling, and not inflammatory in the least. There was no way Jaime Lannister would let the former Maid of Tarth use words as means to escape him. Their souls had spoken, as blood had been spilled. It was enough. And if she decided it wasn't, he would use those sodden sheets. There, it was settled.

With a few stern commands, he got them a copper tub, full of warm water and soap. Brienne stared at the water longingly, but refrained from taking off her almost see-through shift, that he had teared in his haste. Why she had decided to wear the wretched thing again was vexing him.

"Take it off."

At first, she flinched at his blatant order. Her chin stood defiant, as she tore the garment from her body. In this light, he could see the bruise left by his lips and teeth. He was pleased, while Brienne glared back at him. Her eyes strayed, wandering over his still naked body. There had been no reason for him to cover it. Even now, he wanted her again, and she was staring right at his burgeoning arousal.

"Let's get cleaned up, m'lady."

The water was like a balm to his aching muscles, washing away his sin. It reminded him of a time, both of them were bared and wet. She had stood in front of him, defiant and graceful, as he cowered beaten and defeated with his limb disfigured and festering. He had confided in her, told of his best kept secret. It was then he had seen it in her eyes, not pity, but an understanding he was lacking. It wasn't about lust or revenge. She had been a true friend in his greatest moment of need. It was the first time she had called him by his name, as she held against her bosom. Her warmth and breath kept him alive. He owed her everything.

Hesitantly, they sat on opposing ends, their eyes staring elsewhere, but themselves. It was absurd, this uncomfortable silence that had befallen them. Just as he was about to interrupt it with inane conversation, Brienne sighed and shifted, causing ripples in the water.

"When I was about five, I dreamt of how my life would be when I was older…I believed a faraway knight would fight for me, conquering terrible quests, to win my hand. He would be chivalrous, the most honorable man in all of Westeros, set to gain my love and take me away to his kingdom. For three days I woke up earlier than most, running through the garden daydreaming of that day, almost seeing him in my thoughts."

"Some servant girls, a bit older than I, saw me talking to myself, playing it all out. Within their group was my own personal maid, who instead of protecting me decided to ridicule me in front of her older friends. Using the knowledge she had of me and my silly childish dreams, she told them… the oldest, a beautiful girl of four and ten, strode towards me. Without any compassion, she proceeded to inform me no knight would ever come for me. No one would risk their lives confronting dragons and dangerous quests for my hand in marriage. I was no price, for I was ugly and unfeminine. To her I should be the low-born, a mere servant to clean chamber pots."

Brienne evaded his eyes, trying to keep her tears at bay, and surely not wanting pity reflected in his face. If she had stared back, she would've seen his rage. From such a young age, his Brienne had endured cruelty, and yet she was the noblest person he had ever met. He wanted to console her, and whisper in her ear that she had found her knight…that he had been maimed in the process, but he was still here.

"M-my father…he was standing on the side. Listened to the servant's tirade. His eyes gazed at the ground, but not a movement or word in my defense. It was then I knew, he thought the same, for I was his burden, an unmarriageable female. From that day forth, I dedicated my life to be as unladylike as possible, becoming the knight, my own savior. For a foolish moment, I confess Renly…held a piece of my heart, but I failed him, ending my career as part of the Kingsguard, dishonored and wanted for his death. Now, all I have left is my oath…to Lady Catelyn, to bring her daughters to Winterfell. After that, I don't know what will become of me."

Jaime let her words sound off inside his mind, not noticing that Brienne was silently sobbing. She was tired, defeat and loneliness had made her cave to carnal sinfulness. It was all for naught. She had to leave this room, this place, this man, and retake her oath's purpose. His sole hand stopped her from leaving, shyly her eyes searched his, begging him to let her go.

"You, wench, belong to me. With me. If you must complete this fool's errand, I'll be by your side. You won't be alone again. Brienne, _my Beauty_, I owe you my life. Let me make an honest woman out of you, and therefore restore the honor I've taken selfishly. Your knight didn't find you…you found him. He's not handsome, not like he used to, he's not honorable, as actions stand against him, but he belongs only to you. And if you tell him that bitch's name, he'll kill her as a wedding present. Just kidding."

Her watery eyes looked alive, as she laughed at his antics, so much like his old self. He would've kill that whore, but now all he wanted was to see his Brienne smile. Holding her in his arms was reminiscent of when she held him, returning breath into a dying corpse. Both hearts were beating, hopefully as one.

Brienne pushed on his chest, staring directly at his eyes, "Was that your proposal? Wench, you belong to me? Yes, you're the knight I dreamt all those years ago…"


End file.
